


Fracture

by The_Eldritch_IT_Gay



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Blood and Injury, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, OC centric, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Talon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 22:03:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14246688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Eldritch_IT_Gay/pseuds/The_Eldritch_IT_Gay
Summary: 3 years after joining Blackwatch, Malik's assigned what is meant to be a simple Talon recon mission according to Reyes. Malik, though, knows better and far more than they let on. Their decision to take the mission leads them into a past they had tried to leave behind and jeopardizes the future they tried to create in Blackwatch.





	Fracture

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually a rewrite of a fic I wrote in Aug 2016, before I had Malik figured out. I deleted the original fic from Ao3 after a bit because Malik had changed so much. Recently, I've had a bit of motivation so I thought I might try and go back to the WIP rewrite I'd been putting off. 
> 
> This takes place in 2059, 3 years after Malik joins Blackwatch (meaning he's 20 at the time), and around a year-ish before Kallista (from [Blackwatch Bastet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8028349)) joins.

The alley was eerily quiet as Malik walked down it, their echoing uneven footsteps seeming thunderously loud to their ears. Mentally, they cursed whoever had decided they weren’t going to wear their exoskeleton on this mission. Low profile meant no exoskeleton, no heavy armoring, they were just in casual street clothes. All they were doing was meeting with someone to retrieve Talon intel, there wasn’t any need for their suit. They had a handgun if they needed it, and a sniper covering them if things went bad- but it wasn’t supposed to go bad. If they were meeting anyone other than Damián, they wouldn’t have even needed any backup.

Malik remembered during the briefing that Reyes pointed out that there was no reason to believe Damián would be violent. He hadn’t had any communications with Talon in the past months, no known criminal record. Graduated from a prestigious French university with a Ph.D. in chemical engineering. After severing contact with Talon, he tried to reach out to Overwatch to give intel he had gathered while working there. In his messages, he claimed Talon had offered him a handsome salary, access to top-of-the-line technology, and free reign over what he could do for research and experimentation. Digging into his personal life turned up no red flags- he was 56 years old, divorced in his 30s after losing his 3 children to the crisis, currently trying to live a low profile in Lyon, France. He didn’t appear to pose a threat, even after Malik dug for every piece of info they could about him. Nothing about him was out of place, no matter how hard Malik looked. His record looked perfect, and it made Malik sick.

Maybe it was their odd, anxious behavior that made Reyes send Lyudmila with them. Even though Malik didn’t say anything, _and they knew they should have_ , Reyes had been their commander for nearly 4 years now and could probably read him pretty well at this point. He made sure they had the gear they needed, made sure Lyuda would cover them, and had told Malik not to worry. From Reyes’ perspective, there wasn’t a reason to worry. Malik, though, knew better.

They should have said something before now. They promised themselves they would say something before the mission, but it was too late now.

Adjusting their gloves, they tried to warm up their hands- the stress and the cold threatening to make their hands numb. Usually, they loved the cold, how it reminded them of home but now all they could think of was how painfully aware they were of their chilled extremities, the pain of cold air biting at their chapped skin, and how the cold metal of their orthosis seemed to seep into their back and leg. They could see their own breath as they let out a sigh, muttering a curse as they adjusted their comlink again. It always felt awkward, the specialized com hooked behind their ear, between their ear and the processor of their cochlear implant. It was small, excellently designed, and it did a fantastic job letting them actually _hear_ what was being said on the com channel. They were grateful they had it, of course, another thing on the list of things Blackwatch had done to accommodate them. Even though they were grateful, they could never manage to adjust to how it felt to wear the com.

Letting out another sigh, Malik watched their breath which was visible now in the cold evening air. They could tell they just projecting their unease onto everything.

They shouldn’t have even agreed to go on the mission, and honestly didn’t even know why they agreed in the first place, but they couldn’t turn back now. Walking slowly down the alley, they tried to calm the anxiety that was coiling in their gut. Fuck. _Fuck_. Why the fuck had they agreed to this? How the fuck were they going to face him? What the fuck are they even going to say? Letting out another irritated sigh, they fiddled with their com again.

_“Stop messing with your com, Vestige.”_

They jumped slightly at the crystal clear, chiding voice of Lyudmila in their ear.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Malik exclaimed, “Don’t do that, _gods_.”

They let out a shaky sigh, brushing a stray strand of hair out of their eyes as they glanced around quickly. There was no one around, they hadn’t seen many people since they strayed from the main road, but they were still silently thankful no one had seen them. Fluffy snowflakes were slowly falling, dancing in the light from the streetlamps. A sudden wave of solemn nostalgia washed over him as he watched the snow sticking to the wet stone of the streets, a faint memory of a time long past playing at the edges of his mind. It was unremarkable and barely there, a fleeting moment when he was younger, a few seconds between the traumas- the eye of a hurricane, the calm before the storm.

 _“The last door on your right side,”_ Lyuda said, pointedly pulling him from his thoughts, _“You know what to do. I’m covering the alley, let me know if you need backup while you’re in there.”_

“Yeah...” They nodded, letting out a breath as they tore their eyes away from the snow-dusted streets.

Trying to focus back on the mission, he approached the old building, wincing as he stepped up on the stairs. They tried not to hesitate before knocking on the door, but they still managed to freeze with their knuckles hovering just centimeters away from the door. Fuck. Why were they freaking out? It didn’t matter who the hell Damián was, they were an adult, they were on a job. He was just another contact. Malik had done recon missions like this before and they had never been like this. Damián wasn’t anything to them anymore, he didn’t matter. So why were they shaking? Gods, they felt pathetic. They didn’t want to knock on the door, they didn’t want to face their past, they thought they had left their past behind when they joined Blackwatch. They had left it behind for a _good reason_. Fuck. But they _knew_ they couldn’t back out now, and they were far too aware that Lyuda’s eyes were trained on them, and if they didn’t knock on the damn door soon she would ask questions. _Fuck_. Letting out a deep breath, they begrudgingly knocked on the door.

They hadn’t even finished knocking before someone opened the door, and they had to hold back from cursing or startling. Looking up anxiously, they found a well-dressed omnic looking back at them. It was a slight relief not to be facing their father immediately, but they didn’t get to dwell on their respite long.

“Ah, yes,” The omnic started before they could speak, “Malik, is it? Salazár told me about you. We’ve been expecting you, please follow me.”

The anxiety from before was back now in full force, making them tense up immediately. Everything about this was screaming that it was a bad idea to follow the omnic, they should turn and run, mission be damned. And yet.

“Thank you,” They smiled politely, stepping into the house and carefully wiping their boots as they entered.

The inside of the apartment was old and dimly lit, floorboards creaking under their heavy footsteps. The empty rooms reminded Malik of the abandoned stores and apartments Malik’s gang had depended on for temporary shelter and supplies. This building though was almost suspiciously empty and clean. One of Malik’s contacts in the area, Cécilia, had told them about this place. She was the type of person who would have a use for abandoned areas, outside the view of prying eyes, or witnesses, much like Malik.

The entire small apartment block had been abandoned, what had originally been an average old housing block half a century ago, was planned to be renovated into low-income housing. But restorations of the old building had only been halfway through when the project’s funding was cut. Now it sat empty, and usually ended up as a meeting place for… unsavory business deals. It was a favorite meeting place for their contact and friend, which was evident from the bloodstains on the floors.

The room the omnic lead them to vaguely resembled a sitting room, abandoned equipment and old furniture cluttered the room. Taking a deep breath, Malik forced a polite smile as he sat on the bench the omnic gestured to.

“You did come alone, as agreed upon, yes? I hope you can understand Salazár’s wish for this to be as discreet as possible.”

Malik nodded, “Yeah. Completely understandable.”

“Wonderful, let me fetch Salazár.”

The omnic gave a polite nod before leaving the room. The silence that fell felt heavy and tense. Malik bounced his leg anxiously, fidgeting with his hands as he waited.

He didn’t have to wait too long.

“Good evening,” A low voice spoke from behind them, making their blood turn cold, “I do believe you met Vincent on the way in, yes?”

The man walked by them, and Malik immediately tensed as he passed and made his way to the seat across from them. He looked like they had remembered him, albeit slightly older, and it sparked a small panic in them that they struggled to quickly calm down. His hard, dark eyes seemed to pierce into them, pulling to the surface terrible memories from their childhood. They mentally chiding themselves for letting those memories come to the surface and for so easily being unnerved by him. _He doesn't have any control over you_ , they told themselves, _you’re not his child, he’s not your father, you’re an adult, you’re a fucking soldier, he has no control over you. It’s been 12 years, he might not even know it’s you, you look completely different. You’re an adult, you’re a soldier. Act like it._ Taking a deep breath, they clenched their good hand into a fist before speaking.

“Yes, he seems nice. From the briefing, I understand that you two have been trying to settle down nearby, no?” Malik smiled, voice slightly strained.

“Mm, Yes,” Damien hummed, “I hope the trip wasn’t too bad, as I understand it your base isn’t too far away though.”

Malik tensed slightly. The Overwatch HQ location wasn’t exactly private, but for some reason, it still rubbed them the wrong way.  
“Vincent mentioned you already know who I am, so I assume introductions aren’t necessary?”

Trying to push things along, Malik wanted nothing more than to get this over with as soon as possible. Smalltalk had never been something he enjoyed or excelled at, but right now it was almost physically painful.

“Malik, was it?” Something about his tone was sinister even as he smiled, “Interesting name. I didn’t think you had Arabic heritage.”  
He grinned, flashing his white teeth that always looked a bit too sharp to them. Leaning back in his chair he studied Malik curiously. They hated the way he looked at them, with a smug predatory grin, they knew he was analyzing everything about them, looking for where he could apply pressure to make them break.

“There are many things you don’t know about me.”

“It’s interesting as well since you have a traditionally Spanish last name. I’m curious, is it your real name?”

“My name is... irrelevant. I’m here on behalf of Overwatch-”

“I looked you up, you know,” Damien interrupted, “I had a sneaking suspicion about you. After the attack, you and your brothers dying seemed too good to be true. You’re not the only one who knows how to track people and steal information, _hija_.”

And just like that, all the pretense melted away, leaving Malik frozen and exposed under Damián’s stare. It was a trap, it always had been. And they had walked into it _willingly_. He wanted them dead- no, he just wanted to watch them _suffer_. The mission was utterly fucked and compromised now. They should run, retreat, send off a distress signal- _something_. They needed to get out.

But…

They eyed the thick manilla envelope Damien had with him. There was a chance, however small, that he did bring the information. Reyes had trusted Malik to complete the mission, this was the closest they had ever gotten to a solo-mission. They couldn’t let him down, they _had_ to do this. The only way out was to complete the mission, whatever the cost. Going back empty handed would be so much worse than whatever grisly fate they would meet at Damián’s hands.

“I’m not here to talk about the past, Damián. I’m here on a mission. Just give me the files and I’ll get out of your life for good. This isn’t a personal visit, this is official Overwatch business.”

“Oh, of course. Imagine my delight when I found out you were one of their agents.” He smiled warmly, the almost genuine delight in his voice making them nauseous, “Were you surprised to see me again, it must have been a shock. I bet you had hoped I was dead, didn’t you, your mother hoped the same thing… Oh, I wonder if you told any of your colleagues how you know me. I doubt it, otherwise, they wouldn’t have let you come to this little father-daughter reunion. I should be flattered, you lied and compromised the mission just to see me.”

He wasn’t even trying to hide the malicious intentions behind his actions anymore, he seemed fucking delighted to share his thoughts. Fuck, fuck. This was a bad idea. It always had been. Why the fuck had they let it get this far? What did he even want from them? Did he just want to see them squirm? Because he was fucking succeeding. God, they _knew_ they shouldn’t show how much it affected them to be misgendered by him, but they couldn’t help the way they felt crushed and the way they had to physically hold back from tearing up. No. They can’t cry in front of him again. Can’t show weakness. Gods. Fuck. They felt sick to their stomach just being _near_ him. It felt like their façade of indifference and adulthood was crumbling at just a few words from him. _He has no control over you. You’re a soldier. You’re an adult,_ they tried to tell themselves, but they didn’t feel like an adult in front of him. They felt like the child they had been over a decade ago, trembling and crying in fear of what he might do. The child that had stood paralyzed while he beat their mother in front of them-

 _“Fuck off, Damián,”_ They hissed, without thinking.

He raised his eyebrows slightly at their outburst and grinned.

“Such colorful language from a prestigious agent, I’ll have to file a complaint. It’s rude to speak to your clients or your father in that way…”

Malik let out a low growl.

“You’re not my fucking father, and I’m a fucking adult here on business, so just fucking give me the information Overwatch wants and I’ll disappear out of your fucking life again. I don’t take any fucking orders from you anymore.”

Humming softly, Damián leaned forward, unperturbed by their words. He looked almost _happy_ , and they couldn’t help the creeping sense of dread that filled them at his expression. Fuck. They were playing into his hand, weren’t they? He was testing the waters, applying just a little pressure to their weak points to see how much it takes to make them squirm, to make them break.

“Hmm… yes, Overwatch is rather interested in Talon right now aren’t they…” He noted, seeming amused, “You’re probably hoping to get a lot of information from one of their chemical engineers, no?”

“If you don’t have the information I’m just going to leave,” Malik threatened, moving to get up.

“Oh, I have the information, but if you’d prefer to run away, go right ahead, you’ve always been good at that.”

Malik froze, hands clenching into fists.

“What do you _want_?” They growled, staring down Damián.

Damián clicked his tongue.

“Now, what makes you think I want anything? Aren’t you the one who came all this way for something?”

Malik glanced down at the thick file and Damián chuckled.

“Oh, don’t lie to yourself, we both know that’s not the only reason you came. Be honest, some part of you really wanted to see me.”

“You’re wrong. I have nothing to say to you. Just give me the information or I’ll leave.”

Damián sat quietly, smiling up at them sickeningly. Malik straightened, watching Damián closely for a moment before he started to step away. Before he could get far though, Damián caught their forearm, his nails digging into their flesh hard.

“Look at how quickly you gave up. You just accept failure and run away. Selfish.”

Malik clenched their free hand into a fist, pointedly avoiding his eyes. His words cut into them like knives, cutting away their façade of composure with razor precision. They could feel their pulse starting to race and their body tremble.

“You’re a failure. You ran away from your family. You ran away from your past. You failed to save your brother, so you ran away from that,” His voice was calm and calculated, watching with amusement as tears started to well up in Malik’s eyes, “You failed to save that woman on the street, who loved you _so_ much, what was her name again? I always forget...”

“ _Don’t-_ ” Malik hissed.

Each of Damián’s words hit them hard, knocking the breath out of them and crumbling what little composure they still had.

“She had a wife too as well, and you ran away and left her poor wife to find her body. Selfish,” Damián was smiling, tightening his grip on Malik’s arm, “What was her name…. Oh, I remember, it was Aish-”

Without thinking, Malik drew their handgun. They didn’t know what they were planning on doing, they didn’t care, and in the end, it didn't matter. The second their gun was out, Damián was already on his feet, shoving them against the wall and twisting their arm until they dropped the gun with a cry of pain.

“Pathetic…” Damián chided, forearm across their throat.

He didn’t even look at them, instead focusing on weighing the gun in his hand.

“Blackwatch, hm? You’d think after 3 years in a top secret black ops organization you’d be skilled enough to take down an unarmed man. I do hope they have better agents than you because this is just _pathetic_.” He sighed, hardly needing to exert himself as Malik struggled against him, “Well… I suppose now you should thank me for this.”

Malik had barely noticed what he was doing until he felt a needle in their arm and a burning sensation starting to slowly spread through their veins.

“W-what-” Malik started, struggling to find their words as a sudden drowsiness washed over them.

“Shh. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you there’s no use in fighting it.” Damián smiled.

Malik’s knees started to buckle and Damián stepped back and gladly let them drop to the floor. Despite Damián’s words they still tried to fight it, tried to stand, to move, to get back up and _fight_. But their body’s responses were sluggish and they slid down the wall uselessly. They distantly heard Damián chuckle again and struggled to focus their eyes on the figure in front of them.

He was walking back to the table, picking up the thick manilla envelope up off the floor and placing it back on the table. With a flick of his wrist, he brought up a holographic screen and started typing something quickly. Even in their hazed state, Malik could recognize Talon’s logo on the screen.

 _This was all a setup._ Malik realized, all of it. _He just wanted to make me suffer. A show of power. And he’s just going to walk away._  
Without thinking, they dragged their hand across the floor and reached out. The familiar worm hilt of their blade materialized beneath their fingers and their eyes were trained on Damián’s back. They gripped the hilt tightly and they struggled to stand, muscles still barely responding. Pain coursed through them as they took a step forward, unsteady and ill-coordinated without their cane.

_One slash and it could be over. He could be gone. I could be free. It could all be over so soon._

Tightening their grip on their sword, they trudged forward, barely keeping upright. All they could focus on was the back of Damián’s neck and how close they were to freeing themselves from his control. They shakily raised the blade, ready to bring it down across his neck. They were so close, so close to closure, to revenge, to finally killing the man who had terrorized and broken them through their entire life. Maybe this is why they came, in the hopes they could end him and get some semblance of closure. Malik took a deep breath, trying to steady their hands, getting ready to bring down the blade.

In a split second, Damián spun around and before Malik could react, they heard 3 quick gunshots and froze. The impact they felt knocked the wind out of them, ears ringing and vision swimming. Their grip slackened on their sword as they staggered back and fell to the ground hard. They could feel distantly the warmth of blood seeping through their shirt.

“Pity…,” Damián sighed, clicking his tongue, “Though I’m sure Blackwatch won’t mind losing someone like you.”

He nudged their side with the tip of his boot, shaking his head.

“They’ll come for me-” Malik choked out.

Damián chuckled.

“Oh, yes, I’m counting on it. Don’t get me wrong, they do seem rather fond of you. It’s so nice of you to deceive them and befriend them, makes things easier for us.”

“I-” Malik struggled to form words, now all too conscious about the blood that was beginning to pool around them.

Humming, Damián crouched next to Malik, looking bemused.

“Oh, how would your little friends at Overwatch still feel if they knew what you _really_ are? Hm? I bet they don’t even know much of anything about you, do they? You like to pretend you’re transparent about everything, but I know better, I can see through that pathetic little mask you put on around them. Tell me, do they know your real name? I bet they don’t know anything about your past, they didn’t even know about me. Do you think they’d still think you’re fit for your job if they knew about how psychotic you really are? They don’t know half the things you’ve done, or what you’re capable of. Do they know that you're not even _human_? That you’re one of Talon’s weapons? We _made_ you. No matter how many webs of lies you spin, or how much you hide and try to change, you can’t change what you were made to do, what you were made to be. You can pretend you’re loyal to Overwatch, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re a ticking bomb. One day you’re going to go off and you’re going to take down Overwatch and all your little friends with you, just like we made you to. Everyone you let close will be a casualty, letting them close is just pulling them closer to the blast radius. One day you will destroy everything you love, and everything that loves you- if it’s even _possible_ for anyone to love you. Don’t think we won’t do that. You think that you escaped our control? That you’re making your own decisions now? No. You wouldn’t be where you are without Talon. You didn’t escape you played right into our hand. We have you right where we want you.”

“No-”

“Yes,” Damián smiled.

He stood with a small sigh, tossing the gun to the side before looking back down at Malik.

“Send my regards to Gabriel, will you?” He said as he straightened his coat, “Though I’m sure I’ll have a chance to myself soon enough.”

Before he turned to leave, he stopped. Heading back to the table, he picked up the thick file up from the table.

“Just for your troubles, you can keep this,”

He dropped the file on their chest and excruciating pain shot through them, knocking the breath from their lungs and sending spots dancing across their vision.

The footsteps of Damián leaving hardly registered in their mind, all they could focus on was the burning hot pain. They tried to move, wanting to curl up on their side to relieve the pain from their back and protect their aching chest. It took them a minute to realize that their legs weren’t moving- that their legs _couldn’t_ move. Their uninjured hand flew down to feel for their legs, only vaguely relieved to find them there. But they still couldn’t feel them.

Biting back another sob, they did their best not to move their head as they felt around for the injury. Their shirt was already soaked with their blood, but below their ribs, they could feel a tear in the fabric. And their skin. Torn flesh that moved and pulsated with every panicked breath they took.

It took blackness creeping into their vision to pull them back to reality, they were dying. They were dying. They needed to do something. Their blood soaked hand frantically fumbled with their com, trying to remember how to turn it on. In the back of their mind, they remembered there was a way to send out a distress signal, a button. Tears streaming down their face and struggling to hold onto consciousness, they pulled the comlink from their ear, clumsily pressing down the button before letting their arm flop to the side.  
Feeling their consciousness fast slipping away, all they could do was let out a whimper, three words, their final thought before giving into the darkness.

“ _I’m Sorry, oumi-_ ”

* * *

Lyudmila knew something was wrong the second she heard the gunshots ringing out in the alleyway. Tensing, she looked through her scope down the alleyway, looking for any movement. But the alleyway was still. No movement visible in the windows of the meeting spot. She took a deep breath, tapping the com in her ear.

_"Vestige, do you copy?"_

Silence.

 _"Vestige, do you copy?"_ She repeated, waiting for a response.

Reyes had told her about Malik before the briefing. They weren't used to following orders, known for being stubborn, but also incredibly talented with their work. They were newer to the field, as well. Reyes trusted them, though, held some fondness for them. Malik was the most knowledgeable about Talon, which was why they were sent. It wouldn't be unheard of for them to not respond on coms, and she knew from the auditory implants they wore that hearing wasn't their strong suit. But as she watched the still alleyway, she couldn't ignore the sinking feeling of dread in her gut. 

" _Shit_ ," She muttered, as she moved out of position, dropping onto the fire escape, " _Shit."_

She shouldered her rifle as she quickly moved down the snow-covered alley, keeping her head down. Reaching out to touch the door, she found it unlocked, and it swung open easily. She peered through the doorway at the dim-lit and barren interior. It was still silent here, no signs of life or recent activity. Cautiously she stepped into the building,

She heard the distress signal go off just as she saw the growing pool of blood just around the corner.

" _Shit."_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback, comments, and kudos are always very appreciated. If you read and liked this, please leave a kudos óvò''


End file.
